


One last dance

by KFlynn



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Feels, Kissing, M/M, Sad, Sappy, dance, last night - Freeform, two boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 10:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13715400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KFlynn/pseuds/KFlynn
Summary: Tomorrow they would go, together, and they would save their friend. That, and this moment between them, was all that mattered anymore.~~~It's their last evening before they head out to save Minho and Newt finds himself being asked for one last dance.





	One last dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hi0ctane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hi0ctane/gifts).



> FEELS!
> 
> I really don't know why I am even doing this to myself. I cried so much while watching the film and I was somehow also so angry that they decided to kill Newt still and that there was a cure and a serum and arghbhll! So yeah, this is set during the last movie, the evening before they head out to rescue Minho.
> 
> This is dedicated to @Hi0ctane who is just the best!

Slowly but steadily, the candles were burning down. The shadows were getting longer, as if they had just waited for the light to disappear so that they could finally emerge and claim this area. They almost seemed to dance across the floor, reaching out to cover more and more as the night began to engulf the day and fill everything with blackness.

Newt looked at the last remaining flames, eyes transfixed by the flicker of gold in the darkness. He was shivering despite the warm temperatures, briskly rubbing his arms to get some semblance of warmth back into himself.

He hadn't felt warm for days now.

Just another side effect, he mused, blinking slowly. Another sign of his body slowly shutting down.

He hid it well.

Inhaling the smell of roses and smoke, he tore his gaze from the lights, looking around the room. People were settling down all around them, ready to sleep. He saw Gally, and the hint of a grin made his lips twitch at the almost constant irritation on his face. But he was looking for someone else.

 

He was looking for Thomas.

Thomas, who was terribly tense these last days, blaming himself for picking the wrong trailer. He had been so sure that it had been the right one, had been so sure to hear Minho's voice, but in the end he wasn't in there. An now Thomas was even more set on saving him, willing to walk right into their enemies headquarter to try and save their friend. He didn't try to show any doubts, didn't waver and seemed so sure that they'd succeed in saving Minho. He also appeared confident in saving Newt; his words at least gave that impression, but Newt clearly saw how nervous and afraid he truly was.  
  
Thomas tried not to think about the ticking clock, but not talking about it, unfortunately didn't make it go away. And Newt could feel it slowly creeping forward inside of him.  
  
But even though, he was calm. He didn't share Thomas' nervousness. He heard the clock ticking away clearer and louder than everyone, but he already had a plan. Newt had not told anyone, and he would not. Talking about it might mak him waver and wish for another way. But there was no other option. Hope was something nice if it was something that could become reality. But hope could also be a very dangerous thing... he didn't want to rely on hope. He saw the facts and acted accordingly.  
And as long as he at least would be able to die as planned, all was good.

Newt reached around his necklace as he headed up the building with a sigh, where he finally found Thomas sitting on the roof, readying his gun.

He stepped up to him quietly, despite the pain radiating through his body. Newt clenched his teeth, bit down on a hiss and brushed past Thomas' shoulder, sitting down next to him without a word.

The settlement around them was slowly dying. Most of the people here were probably infected already and they all looked at the city behind the walls as if all their problems could be solved by tearing down these massive stone barrier. The only thing they had in common with these people was the place they wanted to reach - the last city.  
  
Their plan was set, and Newt himself had put his foot down that he would go with Thomas - despite the danger. He wasn't sitting this one out. He would help saving Minho, even if it was the last thing he'd do. He just couldn't sit here and wait for death to take him while the others risked their lifes saving Minho. He wanted to save his friend as well, the friend that had given him back his life after he had tried to end it in the Maze. The friend that had never left him alone, regardless of how hard things were.  
No, he would't sit here and wait. He'd fight like the others and ran into death's arms with a curse and a grin.

He could hear Thomas inhale and then felt the other boy lean against him, his nose against his neck.

 

"...how are you..?", he heard him ask silently.  
  
"'m good," Newt said, and both of them knew it was a blatant lie. But he closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, taking in the familiar feel and scent of the other.  
  
"What are you doing up here all alone? Brooding?"  
  
"Haha...!" Thomas laughed at that, rubbing his nose against Newt's neck before he turned his head to look up at the sky. "I needed.... some time alone, I guess. "  
  
"I understand. Lot happening, after all."  
  
Thomas could feel Newt shudder, felt his clammy skin even underneath the thick layer of his jacket. But he didn't complain, didn't even show his discomfort.  
  
"Want me to leave...?"  
  
"No... no, please stay..", Thomas said in a low and rasping voice.

 

After a moment of complete silence, he put down the gun and instead turned to sit right next to Newt, similar to his first night in the Glade. He groaned and then wrapped one arm around his friend.

It was a silent comfort for both of them. Newt allowed himself to close his eyes, just breathing, hating how laboured it sounded. Like he had run a mile already.  
  
But Thomas' warmth was a welcome distraction, and he leaned in, head carefully placed against his shoulder. His aggression from earlier had dissipated entirely, leaving a blank feeling that was somewhat filled with the intimate contact between them.

 

"You think of the Glade, sometimes?" the blonde suddenly asked.  
  
"....yeah..", Thomas answered with a silent laugh, his thumb running circles across Newt's back. "I mean I wasn't there as long as you guys, but... it was kinda nice. Especially the evenings together."  
  
"I never thought I'd say it, but... I miss it. Parts of it, at least."  
  
Newt opened his eyes again, not looking at Thomas. Instead he looked up and into the distance where he could see the fires slowly burning out, and behind them, the blazing artificial lights of the city.  
  
"Sitting together like this. Talking. Frypan's stew - the simple things. And now we're here, out of the Maze and still not free, not by a long shot."  
  
His eyes narrowed.  
  
"We're gonna make WICKED pay for this..."  
  
"Definitely...", Thomas nodded and followed Newt's gaze. "This world is crazy. So many sick people and nothing we can do... it sounds so... unfair.."  
  
"It is unfair. But it probably always was, always will be. Not that I remember much of the world before the Maze. Or who we were, or what we did."  
  
Newt looked to the side, watching Thomas for a moment.  
  
"I hope we had a good time."  
  
He could see a faint smile on Thomas' lips as he glanced back to him.  
  
"I actually don't care about the past. I love the memories I have with you and the other Gladers; sure some more than others...", he chuckled slightly. But then suddenly his gaze turned dark and he barely whispered: "I promise that I will save you Newt."  
  
"Don't," Newt said sharply, before recovering himself. "Our first priority is getting Minho out - no matter the costs. I'm going to be with you every bloody step of the way, so don't worry. Don't plan on giving up anytime soon."  
  
He reached out, taking Thomas' hand and squeezing it. His grip was strong, not giving away anything. Thomas looked down at their hands and pressed his lips together. Then he brought his other hand own there, covering Newt's completely.  
"I... there is something I want to tell you..."  
  
Newt didn't shy away from the touch, although Thomas felt him tense slightly. His hand looked unsuspecting, maybe a little bony, but that wasn't a new development.  
  
"Spill it, Tommy," he muttered, his voice turning soft as he spoke.  
  
".....hah....", Thomas suddenly seemed nervous and ther was even a slight blush on his cheeks. "... I'll tell you once we three sit around a fire, eat some damn sausages and talk about tomorrow like a distant dream."  
  
"..."  
  
Newt fell silent, frowning, but kept his hand underneath Thomas. The night grew more chilling, and he drew his coat a little tighter around himself. "That sounds good..."  
  
Thomas nodded and tried to smile although his heart beat heavily. He leaned in more, his hair touching Newt's face as he turned his hand and wrapped his fingers around his friends'.  
  
"I'm... glad you're here with me..."  
  
"No place I'd rather be, Tommy," Newt said quietly, holding on to Thomas' hand like a lifeline. His fingers trembled a little, but he could stick that to the cold if asked.  
  
"No place I'd rather be..."  
  
He couln't see Thomas' smile, but he sure felt the other's lips on his hair a second later.  
  
"Hey...", he suddenly whispered. "Do you wanna dance with me..?"  
  
"Don't be daft, shank, I don't even think I know how to dance," Newt said, chuckling quietly, closing his eyes to hold back the swell of feelings that threatened to overcome him. The place where Thomas had kissed his hair tingled slightly in the best way possible. Newt's heart skipped a beat. "Do you?"  
  
"Not really. But... I like to move my hips.", Thomas said with a giggle.  
  
"That you do, Tommy," Newt replied with a breathless little laugh. But he drew his legs closer, moving to stand, dragging Thomas with him and against him.

He felt warmer to Thomas, now that they stood pressed to one another. Newt placed his free hand on Thomas' back, holding him close.  
  
"There's no music," he muttered.  
  
"...do you need any?", the former Greenie whispered, leaning his forhead against his friend's, showing a soft smile. "I could try to sing? If you can bear it?"  
  
"You gonna sing me a song?" Newt murmured, feeling somewhat choked up. The barest hint of a memory seemed to scratch at his mind: his mother singing him a lullaby when he was sick as a child, stroking his forehead, promising he would get better in no time.

 

Suddenly Thomas began humming a quiet melody, swaying in the comforting darkness.  
  
He looked at the blonde, eyes running over his face.  
  
"...you're really beautiful, has anyone ever told you that?"  
  
"Once or twice," Newt replied with a smirk, trying to sound aloof. But his voice cracked a little and his ears reddened, and he leaned his head against Thomas' shoulder, effectively hiding himself from the sort-of scrutiny.  
  
Thomas could feel his heartbeat fluttering in his chest like a trapped bird, trying to get out. Get to him, maybe.  
  
"You're not so bad yourself, shank," Newt muttered into his shoulder, sighing quietly.  
  
"Haha." Thomas hugged him tightly for a moment, breathing in his scent before he brought some distance between them. Only to bow down and reach out, asking for his hand.  
  
"Can I have this dance, my Shank?"  
  
"You are bloody awful," Newt said, but there was no fire behind his words. He took Thomas' hand and dragged him back up so that they saw eye to eye again.  
  
"This one, and every other, too."  
  
"That's good...", Thomas rasped, their noses touching as he slipped one arm around Newt with a grin."I plan to be even more awful."  
  
"I'd like to see you try."  
  
But Newt ducked his head, letting himself be gripped in the embrace without fighting it. They still moved to their own secret melody, by now dipped into pleasant darkness, surrounded by nothing but silence.  
  
"I think this is already a good start... don't you think?", he murmured, eyes travelling down to Newt's lips...

 

They were both quiet for a moment, looking at each other. There was wonder in Newt's eyes, an almost-but-not-quite innocence, like when he had seen Thomas for the first time, back in the glade. His lips twitched into the hint of a smile and his eyes flicked downwards, to the curve of the other's mouth.  
  
Yet he said nothing, not wanting to disturb the perfect moment.

 

He could hear Thomas' breathe in and then he felt his lips on his own.

 

It was a shy act, with Thomas' cheeks turning red as his beloved tomatoes in the Glade.

For a second time seemed frozen, and none of them moved. But then Newt threw his arms around Thomas' neck and pressed his lips against the others' in earnest, kissing him like his life depended on it.  
And maybe it did. Maybe this was all he could ask for, this close to the end of their journey. Maybe it would make it easier, or still harder. Newt couldn't say he cared right now. All that mattered was the kiss, the warmth of Thomas' lips on his, the searing point of contact that made his heart beat faster.

Thomas moaned slighed as he pulled Newt closer, burying his fingers in his friend's clothes to just hold him, unwilling to let him go. His eyes were closed and he just focused on the feeling, this raw emotion that made him want to scream with happiness and cry because he didn't know if he could truly save him.  
  
Slowly he deepened the kiss and just tried to enjoy this, to burn this into his memory.  
  
He could feel Newt's hand in his hair, running through the brown strands, messing it up even more than it already was. The blonde took in a sharp breath, sounded like he wanted to curse, but then dove in once more, biting at Thomas' lips in quiet desperation.

 

If this was the last memory he could have it would be alright for him. His heartbeat rushed in his own ears and he had to force his eyes shut to keep the emotion at bay.  
  
Thomas had promised to save him. Thomas desperatelywanted to save them both... but how? They could hopfully rescue Minho from their grasp and run. But how should they run from this sickness? It didn't matter how far he ran, it was always right behind him.  
  
That's why he decided to run towards it. To not be scared. He didn't want to cry, but to scream into death's face.

 

But there was also warmth. Thomas' hands running over his skin, his lips on his, the soft moan coming from him.  
  
His touch felt like fire on his body, liquid heat that chased away the cold and the terror. Newt had told himself he wasn't scared, repeatedly, but he knew that it was just wishful thinking. He was terrified. But he wouldn't back down.  
He wouldn't hesitate.  
  
Now they sank to the roof together, holding on to each other like drowning men, kissing and whispering in the dark. Newt whimpered quietly as Thomas' hand ran across his neck, chasing away the rest of the lingering dread, making him forget even if just for a short moment.

 

 

Tomorrow they would go, together, and they would save their friend. That, and this moment between them, was all that mattered anymore.


End file.
